


The Widow

by CosmicCthulhu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Blaise and Theo are good friends, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One-Sided Attraction, Past Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pining, Pining Draco Malfoy, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Widowed Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicCthulhu/pseuds/CosmicCthulhu
Summary: While spending a day on the beach, Draco watches and muses about a widow and her daughter.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 50





	The Widow

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate all comments and kudos I get!
> 
> English is not my first language, and this work is unbeta'd so all errors are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

Draco was still cursing under his breath and glaring at the two other wizards that were off in the distance chatting up with a couple of pretty witches on the insufferably sunny beach, while he tried his best to hide from the sun in the flimsy parasol that his friends had provided so that he wouldn’t look like a lobster by the end of the day.

It had been a few months since he broke off his disastrous engagement with Astoria Greengrass, after he found the witch cheating on him with a random bloke on dingy inn. Since then the blond wizard wasn’t interested in going out and meeting up with any other witch for a long time. 

Sure, he may not have loved Astoria at all and his engagement was purely out of the need to fulfill his duties as a pureblood heir to continue on his traditional line, but Draco loved his own dignity and finding out that his would be spouse was gallivanting around town with other men sure did a number to his self-confidence.

He had to pay galleons upon galleons just to stop the media from spilling out this absolute humiliating drama and yet he still found a reporter or two hounding his house like starved vultures looking for an opportunity to strike.

If it were up to him, Draco would have happily spent the rest of his life alone, locked away in his massive and cold manor, letting his line die out in a last act of rebellion against his father. 

And yes, he could recognize that it was a bit of an overreaction, but the man liked his dramatics and his pride was still smarting from Astoria’s blow.

But then Blaise and Theo decided that enough was enough and they hauled him out of his blissfully quiet and isolated Manor so that they could spend a weekend away in that dreadfully crowded and sunny beach, despite his protests.

_‘You can’t hide away forever, mate! You just need to meet up some new women, just like our old Hogwarts days!’_

Bloody gits. As if he needed help in that department of his life.

Draco was still lost in his thoughts when he suddenly heard the loud and sharp sound of laughter nearby, which made him turn his head to stare at the cheerful scene happening farther away from the spot he was sitting on.

There was a little girl playing in the sand, digging holes, chasing seagulls and laughing loudly, uncaring that she may be a nuisance for the other people trying to relax at the beach. She was small, probably two or three years old if Draco had to guess, and she had curly brown hair and freckles that contrasted against her pale skin.

But what truly caught his attention was the little girl's mother, Hermione... Weasley herself. Sitting nearby and watching her daughter playing in the sand with a wide smile on her own face.

It was strange seeing her like that.

In fact, it was strange seeing her out in public at all, on a sunny and happy beach, no less.

He knew about her husband’s death through the Daily Prophet. When it happened, a little over a year ago, all the papers, magazines and gossipers talked about it for weeks, making sure to get as much information ( _be it true or not_ ) as possible regarding the gruesome accident that took Ronald Weasley’s life. 

They even described his funeral in full detail, from reciting who was there and who didn’t show up, to even discussing the fashion trends of the dresses and robes the guests wore. Salazar, these people were real starved vultures at this point.

There were several interviews as well, of old classmates and distant relatives (and they also tried to get a hold of the rest of the golden trio and the rest of the Weasley clan, of course, but they were also appalled by the crass way the papers were handling such a tragedy). Hell, Rita Skeeter begged  _ him _ for an exclusive interview regarding the death of the old family rival, but out of respect ( _and as a way to retaliate against the awful articles that were published about him and his family_ ) Draco denied every request until she eventually gave up.

Understandably, the widow herself wasn’t seen going out and about in public for a long time since her husband’s accident. 

It was a known fact that the woman had always been more comfortable to spend her days cooped up inside reading anyway and since the reporters started hounding her doorstep she hadn’t gone out of her little cottage at all in almost a year.

Except for today, as it seemed. Considering she was sitting across from him, enjoying her Sunday morning on a sunny beach with her only daughter laughing and playing at her side.

Draco found it strange that Granger ( _or rather, Weasley…_ ) was smiling so at ease, as if her husband was merely absent on a field trip and whatnot, and not actually rotting in a coffin, buried six feet under the earth. 

But then again, he never actually mourned nor loved properly in his life, so he couldn’t possibly imagine how long it took for someone to get over a loved one’s death.

He watched Gran- Weasley hugging and talking to her energetic daughter and somehow he couldn’t stop observing how beautiful she was, even as a widow and a mother. 

When he thought of widows, he always pictured old and bitter crones with double chins and warts on their noses. And he knew it was a childish and ridiculous thought, but he supposed he never really took notice of a proper widow until now.

The sight of Granger ( _Weasley, damnit!_ ) in a flowy blue sundress that accentuated her curves and brightened her face made him realise just how long it had been since the war was over. Her hair was still long and curly, but the wild frizz had been managed and it looked soft and silky to the touch. 

And the way she smiled at her daughter (which, although mildly aggravating by her energetic nature, was still a cute kid nonetheless) was endearing to him and somehow it made her more desirable in his eyes. Idly, he wondered if the little girl wished she could have her father back.

It also made Draco wonder if the deceased would have minded that his wife would go back to living her life, sunbathing on beaches and getting ogled on and desired by past rivals. 

He couldn’t stop himself from forming a devious smirk at that last thought, after all, as it had been stated before, the blond wasn’t above from childish thoughts. Weasley was dead, and Draco was alive and there’s nothing that the ginger could do to stop him from looking at the widowed witch.

“You should talk to her,” he heard Theo’s voice, with an edge of a teasing tone cutting through his quiet contemplation. Gods, how long had he been watching the witch?

“Talk to whom?”

“Don’t play daft, Draco,” Blaise added in, moments later. “Your eyes have been glued to Granger ever since she got here.”

“She’s a Weasley, now,” Draco tutted.

“Does it matter? The man has been dead for over a year!” Theo chimed in with a smile and narrowed eyes towards the widow. “If you don’t make a move, I think then I will. Motherhood has treated Granger well.”

“Stay away from her, you git,” Draco barked out in a sudden wave of protectiveness. Granger… Or rather, Weasley, and the little daughter, too deserved better than someone with questionable morals such as Theo, or even Blaise and even himself for that matter.

“Why should we?” Blaise asked with a raised brow and a barely noticeable taunting smirk. “She’s a single, good looking young woman that surely needs support and a caring person to help her cope with the loss of her husband and the father of her child.”

“Exactly my point! She needs someone to help her mend her broken heart and raise a child. She doesn't need an idiot that’s going to break her heart and make matters worse.”

“Sounds like someone has a crush~” Theo teased in an infuriating sing-song voice.

He was ready to deny it, of course. What a ridiculous idea! 

That Draco could possibly be infatuated by a woman such as Gr- Weasley! No amount of sundresses and captivating smiles could erase her years as an annoying swot and a buck-toothed nuisance! And really she was now a Weasley! How could someone as smart and beautiful as Granger could have been involved with someone as dumb and hideous as that weasel...

And her blood! Well, it didn’t seem so important nowadays, but he imagined his father would be rolling in his grave if he knew his bloodline could be in jeopardy. Though nowadays that did sound a bit appealing to destroy his family line just for the sake of it ( _after all, wasn’t he just swearing celibacy moments ago?_ ). If anything, he was tired of stuck up pureblooded witches anyway.

Damn it, he was getting distracted again.

“Mister, play?” He heard the babble of a child by his side, catching his attention and breaking him from his ponderings once again. When he looked down, there was the little girl, the widow’s daughter, standing next to him with big, brown and doleful eyes and a couple of dolls that seemed a bit too clean and sand-free to be the girl’s own toys. 

He looked around and realized that Theo and Blaise were nowhere to be seen, too.

“What?” He choked up, trying to register that the little kid was basically asking a stranger ( _an ex-Death Eater stranger, at that_ ) to play with dolls with her. 

Merlin, didn’t the weasel teach his daughter not to approach evil-looking, grey-eyed, pale blond men?

“Rose!” He heard Gran- Weasley’s distressed voice coming from nearby, and Merlin, her voice was more pleasant than he remembered. No longer it was the annoying screeches of a know-it-all trying to prove herself right nor the haunting screams of a girl pleading for mercy in his manor’s floors.

She ran towards him ( _more like, she ran towards her innocent and foolish little daughter, but the vision was still a pleasant one_ ) and she stopped close enough to get under the shade of his parasol so that she could get a hold of the little girl’s hand, that were at the moment, too occupied clutching the doll’s hair and dresses.

“Didn’t I tell you not to wander?” She muttered to the girl, who had the sense of looking guilty. 

“Mama, look,” the kid mumbled out, showing her with the newly acquired dolls to her mother, followed by her tiny fingers pointing to a slightly baffled Draco, who was still trying to understand why that girl approached him. “We play.”

“These aren’t your toys, darling,” Granger told her kindly, trying to pry away the dolls from her daughter’s tight grip.

“It’s alright, she was just playing,” Draco surprised himself by talking to Granger ( _Wealsey, argh!_ ) with a civil and even possibly amicable tone. He then shrugged, with a smile, looking at the little girl, that was partially a carbon-copy of her mother. “In fact, she can keep them if she wants, I don’t even know how these dolls showed up anyway.”

It was a bit of a lie. He had an idea regarding the dolls' sudden appearance, and it was related to his two annoying Slytherin friends' sudden  _ disappearance, _ but it wasn’t like he was going to admit that. 

Bloody former Slytherins thinking that they can ploy him into a date by bribing a child!

If Granger was leery of his presence, she didn’t show it. Instead, her face looked mildly amused and curious. And judging by the look on her face, she was either trying to figure out why he wasn’t spewing out insults at her or she was trying to work out why a grown man had a couple of girly dolls.

“How have you been Gran- Wea- erh... Hermione?” 

Oh Merlin, he was a stuttering mess and he didn’t even know why. He couldn’t remember a single occasion in which he wasn’t a self-assured wizard, and he hoped he wasn’t actually blushing as he actually suspected he was.

“I’ve been well,” she responded, and her smile was sincere, as she took a hold of her daughter and allowed her to climb on her lap so that she could be on her way back. 

“That’s nice to hear. You look radiant,” he adds, regaining his confident disposition and he feels the urge to smirk in victory when she’s the one that’s blushing in turn.

“Thank you,” She mutters, with a slight smile, despite her flustered state. And then added with another mumble “I gotta go,” turning back with her child in her arms, and coaxing Rose to wave and bid her own farewells to the wizard, while also thanking the kind man for her new toys. 

And just like that, the strange interaction was over, and Draco was left once again admiring the beauty of the widow sauntering away from him. 

Much to his dismay, he thinks of the weasel again, with a scowl and reddened face in anger, condemning Draco for lusting after his wife and longing to play with his daughter.

The blond wizard shakes his head with a chuckle. The idea that the deceased would be resentful of him, though mildly amusing, was foolish nonetheless. 

Weasley was dead and that was that, while Draco was very much alive just like Hermione was. 

“So did you make a move on her?” He hears Theo’s voice approaching, and he assumes that his two friends had hidden themselves nearby after buying those blasted dolls to lure the child ( _and the mother_ ) to speak to him.

“Not quite yet, but maybe someday I will,” Draco responds after a minute of thinking, still looking at the widow now playing with her daughter at the water.


End file.
